


Immortal Memories

by PrismaticDelight



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: At least to me, But I've never really done so, Contemplated writing smut, Even if Nate and Surina dated during the series it wouldn't be official until the dust settled, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It was almost two in the morning when I finished, It would've definitely sucked then, Love artistic characters, Murphy plagues her nightmares, My female detective is an artist, Nate is the master of teasing, Stoic ones too, There's swearing in this, This is after all seven books if they were released, a little shit, hell yeah, this might suck, what is the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrismaticDelight/pseuds/PrismaticDelight
Summary: I just really wanted to write some Nate/Surina/Female detective stuff. I thought about it for a few days and just threw myself at it last night. God I love The Wayhaven Chronicles way too much, it's hella fun. I'm kinda tempted to write another fanfic??? There is absolutely no plot, it's just babble and nonsense.Please listen to Call Out My Name by The Weeknd if you haven't already.





	Immortal Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I just really wanted to write some Nate/Surina/Female detective stuff. I thought about it for a few days and just threw myself at it last night. God I love The Wayhaven Chronicles way too much, it's hella fun. I'm kinda tempted to write another fanfic??? There is absolutely no plot, it's just babble and nonsense.  
Please listen to Call Out My Name by The Weeknd if you haven't already.

_ I stare at myself. Unfeeling. The color, familiar, warm, its otherwise intense hue darkened by the dirty cold floor. It, crawling, reaches my knuckles. I would shudder, if I could. I would twitch a finger, if I could. The voices are distant, so far away, all around me, enveloping._

_ Swallowing._

_ Consuming. _

_ Vibrations travel through the concrete I lay upon, I can’t move. Feet pounding. They, those faces, surround me. Their lips moved, but whatever they say is unknown to me. It’s cold, numbingly slow. I’m not sure how I’m seeing this. How I’m watching myself die, watching Unit Bravo panic, snap away in withdrawal as they cover their noses, their mouths. I see realization dawn on Nate’s face, briefly, so briefly, looking to the ceiling, then motions at Mason. He moved faster than I could anticipate. Something is thrown, I swear I hear it whistle in the air despite its size. The ceiling, the roof, it collapses perfectly; as if afraid to ruin the tender, petrifying moment as the vampires’ stare at the lifeless body of mine._

_ I’m dying._

_ I close my eyes again. I don’t wish to see anything else. I don’t need to. What’s the point of death it can’t be somewhat peaceful? Why put myself through emotional pain? Besides, they’ve probably seen many humans die. One more death is just a statistic. We’re “fragile”, aren’t we? Our lives are short. Fickle. A drop in the ocean. _

_ I have no apologies to give, no amends to make. I know I opened my eyes once, during then. I said something, to someone, I don’t remember. And, frankly, I don’t want to remember._

_ But of all things to forget—why couldn’t that man be one of them?_

_ A cold, slithering touch grazes my left arm. I try to jerk away, but it tightens immediately. So, I swing back my other arm, elbow poised. But he dodged effortlessly. I think I screamed as he tore my flesh and threw me onto the floor. He won’t leave my dreams. He won’t leave my head._

_ He won’t leave me alone._

_ Why can I never throw him off? How is it that he does this every night? _

_ He lunged too soon, before I could begin to consider tending to my arm or prepare to fight. His hand, that disgusting bony hand, is around my neck. I throw up my hips, jerking them aside. He doesn’t even budge. I have nothing to use against him, no gun, no stone. Throwing up my hands, I’m pressing my thumbs deep into his eyes, still throwing my weight until he gives, until he groans, until his grip loosens just a fraction. A fraction is all I need to succeed. The moment he’s tumbling off of me, I’m on my feet to run. _

_ But he’s in front of me in a blink of an eye. I hadn’t seen him move. The face isn’t human. It’s twisted. A perverted distortion of reality, I can’t understand its concept, its details. It reminds me of too many things. I pray the light will show itself, I remember, some nights, I’m on my own. I should be used to that; I’ve handled myself just fine. Until now._

_ My knees buckle as I scream, I know I do this time, skin tearing apart, muscles gouged. The pain so deep it reached my bones. I don’t need to look, and yet I do. I stare right at the tracks left behind. I slap a hand over it uselessly as I hit the floor with my knees, the rushing blood from my arm inconsequential now._

_ “Even here, you can’t win.” The voice mocks me. Like icy tendrils, it gripped my existence. “What’s wrong, Detective?”_

_ I’m on my own. I always have been. There’s no light for me._

_ There’s nothingness._

_ It’s only Murphy and I. His body morphing, reshaping, twisting and bending, it’s cosmic. I know what comes next. I know he’ll devour me. I’m already lightheaded from bleeding. I can’t seem to think, a name hazy in my memory, but it won’t quite reveal itself. _

_ “You should feel proud, Detective. You’re my success. You are living proof of what we can be.” Don’t touch me. Please. Not again, don’t look at me with those eyes. Don’t breathe, don’t acknowledge. I don’t exist, I’m not real. _

_ I start to fall, my body collapsing just as he lunges. The void surrounding consumed entirely by Murphy, ruthlessly digging into my being so deep, too deep. Too much. Too warm, too hot. Too cold. I can’t think of that name. That name, that light, that saving grace, what was that name? I can’t remember. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe._

_ I can’t breathe—_

I throw myself upright before I can think to do anything else, clamping my hand over my mouth. It catches my voice, although, it wouldn’t have alarmed anyone. It never came out. Be it a gasp or scream, I’m not sure. But it does quiet my panting, chest heaving, it’s slick with sweat. I’ll have to change the sheets now. I just washed these. They’re my favorite ones, go figure. The hand pushes through my hair from over my mouth, forcing sweat to the roots. I can’t be bothered to care, at least, not right now. My bedroom is blanketed in midnight darkness, a perfect, complete, full moon casting gentle silver light. I’m tempted to go out for a stroll, I wonder who I’d meet along the way. I don’t hear any howling, that’s a good sign as any.

Doubting I can go back to sleep, with my breathing calmed, I force myself to climb out of bed. The wood frame creaks under the shifting weight. My hands gather the thick comforter off, dragging it onto the floor, I vacuumed recently anyway. I repeat the process with the sheets until the mattress is exposed and haul it in my arms, awkwardly opening the door. Warm light blinds my senses momentarily. As my eyes adjust, I hear a quiet chuckle. I forgot he was here. Good thing I’m actually dressed.

“What’s so funny?” I huff out, my tone a bit harsher than I intended but whatever, I just woke up. Apparently, the man isn’t bothered as he sits comfortably on my black sofa pressed to the wall, just beside my bedroom door. I need to rearrange the furniture.

“Your hair,” He answers warmly, “it looks like you were electrocuted.”

“Well, I’m glad my bed hair catches your attention.” I trudge forward, heaving the sheets into a tighter ball so it doesn’t drag. I hardly get a few steps forward when they’re plucked right from my grip from behind.

“Everything you do catches my attention, Surina.” Nate purred, full well knowing he’s pressing up against my back. I wished I was shorter; it’d make speaking in my ear far more difficult. Part of me hates when he says my name, it never fails to get a reaction out of me. I can feel my face growing warm, so I will myself to not face him, and continue on, feeling him follow behind me.

“I hate it when you do that…” I mumble as we weave through the path created by the counters of the open kitchen and dining table adjacent to it, eyes set on the singled out white door.

“Do what?” He replies. I can practically hear him cocking his head to tease me, prompt me.

“You know what,” Taking hold of the knob, I whip open the laundry nook, barely big enough to fit the stacked washer and dryer, which I refuse to let Nate operate. I made the mistake once and, somehow, he broke it. I know technology isn’t exactly his strong suit, much less a preference, but we spent three hours having him learn how to use it. The money I saved for fixing my car went into buying a new washer and dryer, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Nate pay for it. Regardless of what he told me, it made me feel like I owed him, so it made more sense to pay for it out of pocket.

“Does it truly bother you? I’ll stop if it does,” Nate frowned in time for me to see it when I face him, handing the sheets back to me without hesitation.

“It doesn’t _bother_ me, I just… I’m utter shit at that sort of thing. The flirting thing. I guess. I didn’t exactly have a lot of practice.” The washer door pops open and I drop into a crouch, shoving the sheets inside with a detergent pod. “You’ve had, well, years.”

Surprisingly, he chuckles. “You could practice on me, although, you don’t have to charm me to make me want you.” Fuck a duck, man. I should be more receptive to it, we’ve been doing this for, how long…? Almost a year now. A whole fucking year and what do I do? If I’m not blushing like some stupid anime schoolgirl talking to senpai, I’m throwing wisecracks or practically spitting venom. Why does Nate put up with it? Is this healthy? I mean, I do other things that couples do, in terms of touch. And then some.

“How do you…say those things so casually?” I ask, shutting the machine prior to standing, turning a dial to the proper setting so it turns on and begins to work. “Does it come naturally, or something?”

“Naturally?” His laugh is soft, airy. It has my stomach fluttering. “Not in the slightest, not around you.”

“…So, around others…?”

“Sometimes…Charming someone is necessary to get a job done. I don’t…erm, I suppose you could say, get in bed with them. Far from it. But a little encouragement can grant answers.” Nate’s arms encircle my waist from behind. Mentally, I’m taking notes like this is a school lesson, like his words will make or break me.

“That…makes sense.” I whisper, thinking. Since joining Unit Bravo, the Agency, there’s been a few instances where I wished I was more a people-person. One case we worked on involved a family of gorgons, and that went about as well as expected. Mason might as well have been at a comedy show with his sniggering whenever I stumbled over my words. It was fucking creepy talking to someone who could turn me to stone, who had snakes for hair. Adam kept his composure, but we all knew he was seething. Gorgons require a real finesse of vocabulary, and I insisted Nate do the talking, yet somehow, it fell onto me. I think Felix made some sort of comment when we were returning to headquarters, however, I already tuned everyone out for my sanity and waited until I reached the training room to let it all out. Anxiety and anger and all.

“What it comes to me, what is it like?” I finally ask, and his arms, slowly, tightened.

“Terrifying.” Nate spoke simply, pressing his nose into my tangled, disheveled hair. I can’t imagine doing so being very pleasant. I hadn’t washed it since a couple nights ago, being doing so just seemed like way too much work when I came home at three in the morning. “But it’s fun, because I look forward to all of your reactions. Sometimes you laugh, or you glance at me. Sometimes you say something back, daring me, challenging me.”

“Challenging you?” He hums, initially, his head dipping onto my shoulder; chin pressed into my skin. It takes an odd amount of courage to be able to turn and steal a peek.

“Being around you…Requires exceptional willpower, Surina. So, when I want to say something sultry, or flirtatious… It’s exhilarating, knowing I can do more than just speak my desires.” Oh, fuck me. No, wait, don’t. Maybe. Yes? What—? No. It’s tempting, too tempting. Like the apple Eve plucks.

I wiggle to spin and face him, setting my hands firm on his chest and gently, carefully, nudging him back. “I don’t know how you keep your sanity staying up all night in my house.”

Nate snorts, relenting, allowing his arms to release me.

“But if you’re going to be here tonight—and since I’m awake—you’re gonna make yourself useful.”

“Careful, Surina, I can be useful in many ways. Be specific.” I narrow my eyes at him as he spoke, but I know it’s devoid of any warning I wanted to offer.

“Believe me, I’m well aware of your…capabilities. But can you move furniture?”

He briefly seemed surprised, eyebrows shooting up. “I-yes. I can. Did you wake up at midnight to rearrange?” I know that he knew why I was awake. The sheets should be evident enough, if not for me smelling salty. But I also know he knew better than to ask. Talking about nightmares doesn’t do me any good. But, hey, at least alcohol does. I’m not a heavy drinker, never have been. Yet this job has staring into the bottom of an empty bottle seem far too promising.

“Yup. Flirt later, work now.” Dancing around him before he can rebuttal, though I doubt he would, I offer my hand in shifting things around. I didn’t need to, I almost asked Nate if he could hold up the sofa with a single hand. Of course, he can. He can lift a fucking car. The moving is short, as all I wanted to do was move the bookcase and couch to the opposite wall, and the TV left to take its place. Felix managed to jump scare me with his socks when his feet hung over the armrests as I came out of my bedroom. I don’t know what the faces were supposed to be, I just know they were far too… detailed for socks. I didn’t let him have any apple pie I snagged from the bakery that day. In fact, I made it a point to give the others a slice, and eat it right in front of him. I even put whipped cream on mine.

As Nate hauls, with depressing ease, the mahogany barrister bookcase to the wall close to my kitchen, with me keeping off to the side and making sure he isn’t sabotaged by anything lying around, I catch a fleeting sight of something falling off the very top of it. It slides right over Nate’s head, smacking with a solid thud flat on the floor. Quietly, he sets the bookcase down, watching me pick up the book. For a moment, I didn’t recognize it, and had to stare at it for a few solid seconds.

“What is it?” Nate questioned, sliding beside me.

“A photo album. I forgot I had this,” My hands diligently swipe the thick layer of dust from the laminated nondescript black surface.

“I assume forgetting it was intentional, since it was on top of the case.” He speaks gently, easing me into a conversation I probably shouldn’t avoid. I’ve avoided too many others.

“Wanna look?” Strolling to the sofa, I drop my weight into it as Nate hesitated; likely not expecting me to offer giving him so much as a glance to this thing. They’re just old pictures. He creeps closer until he can sit beside, his body turned towards me, an arm draped along the back. If not for this, I would focus on how honestly _cool _he looked in such a position. Prying the book open, it spreads across our laps as I center it between us, greeted by a somewhat fuzzy monochromatic photo of my baby self-cradled in the arms of my mother. Her smile gleaming even still.

“…Wow,” Nate exhales, focusing closely on it. “You look so…calm.”

“Kinda wish I had pictures then I was crying, that’d be a winner. I look like a fucking gremlin.” I snort, staring at the innocently large eyes gazing at the camera.

“I think you look cute!” He exclaims, nudging my shoulder lightly.

“Ugh, please, babies look like shriveled up aliens.” He laughs almost too loudly, having to cover his mouth lest the neighbors hear. “What, it’s true.”

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just your perception on things is fascinatingly humorous.” My eyes roll, not allowing them to linger on the face of Rebecca before I turn the page. In vivid color, my red hair seems far too intense against my place skin of my six-year-old self, mindlessly playing with toys I can’t quite decipher. All I can see for certain is a yellow bus. “Rebecca took the picture...?”

“My nanny did. Rebecca wasn’t really around, and since dad died, well… I was on my own.” I shrug. “I saw her sporadically, didn’t make a difference if I saw her for five minutes or five hours.” The page beside it shows me with some kid I don’t recall. A boy with blonde hair and missing front teeth, grinning so wide, it looked painful. Even I was smiling like a fool, latched in his arms, in matching uniforms.

“That’s—that’s adorable,” Nate whispered, leaning closer.

I snicker. “I remember this one, I joined the soccer team. I hated soccer, but it was the only sport I could kick my legs. The only sport I could kick someone and make it look like an accident.”

“Ruthless,” He shook his head with an ever-present grin.

“Judge all you want; I was releasing my emotions. So, y’know, I did better then than I am now.” Staring back into the grey of my eyes, it felt unusual. Different than looking into my reflection. Her neck, devoid of scars. No jagged fading lines to darken the skin. That Surina doesn’t know of the supernatural, the Echo World. It doesn’t know what her blood can do, and what some people would do to get it.

Whatever face I must be making is enough to see Nate’s slender, beautiful, tan hands come into my line of sight; gently prying the book from under my own hands. It’s quietly closed, set on the coffee table. It seemed fitting there, actually. It’s empty otherwise, riddled with ring stains from drinks past. “Surina,” The way he murmurs my name, firmly but delicately, willing me to look at him. To that dazzling face. His dark hair ever so perfect in its design, the elegant dip and bend of its sweep. Those eyes, warm, even in their darkness. Sometimes, in the right light, I caught flecks of honey within. His chin, jaw, adorned with stubble. I loved running my fingertips against it, memorizing the texture. I caught him trying to shave it one day while he was here. I didn’t hesitate to scold him and tell him I love the stubble; I love the shadow it brings. For some reason, he thought I hated it. I’ve since made it a point to touch it whenever I could.

Like now, this opportunity too perfect to pass. My hand had risen from my lap before realizing, edging my fingertips along his chin, pushing back to trace his jaw. His cheekbones softened in the warm glow of the light above, I noticed. Silently, Nate graces me with a smile. What I hate, truly, is how much I suck at using my words. I’ve said “I love you” before, although, how, I’m not sure. I suppose because of the moment, our lives were on the line that night. I was certain we were going to die, or at least, I would. I made my peace with that the moment I knew my feelings for him, because he’s a creature of immortality. I’m sure I’m one of dozens of lovers, and that’s okay. If I were to live forever, I probably would too, desperate to find solace in everlasting life. Especially if that life came with nightmares, assuming sleep was still necessary. What was like to never need such a thing, to no longer dream? I wondered, at one point, if it made life feel a little hollower.

Nate turns his head into my hand that he holds with his own, kissing the palm so delicately, as if any harder would shatter me. Maybe it would. I can see the words he wants to say, they’re ablaze in his eyes, and I’m sure he can see all of mine. I couldn’t hide them, and I didn’t want to. He leans towards me, the hand resting behind my head coming alive to deftly push my hair from my shoulder. It tickles the exposed skin of my waist peeking from under my t-shirt. I let my eyes close, allowing myself to be selfish in wanting to savor the feeling of his warm lips eventually kissing the skin of my neck, right where the scars lay. Some might say doing so was tacky, or inconsiderate. But it meant the world to me. If someone like him, someone who has seen dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of beautiful women, could still find the serenity in my skin—I knew he meant it. Anything artificial in Nate’s possession would be impossible to find.

He adjusts our hands, solely so our fingers can lace together. Tingling warmth travels from such a gesture and up my arm, filling me wholly. “Thank you…” I whisper, the words meant only for him. He hadn’t withdrawn, his lips lingered against my skin. I won’t dare consider moving away.

“Don’t,” Nate spoke lowly, “I’ve done nothing special.”

“Yes, you have, to me at least. You still… find me beautiful.” This weakness, this fear, I feel it creeping in. The fear any scars I have taint the worthiness of my existence. I have too many of them. Even long faded ones are still too vivid.

“Oh, Surina,” His head raises, his cheek brushing along mine, stubble tickling me. I can’t open my eyes; I don’t need to. I can feel his breath flitting my lips, I can feel his gaze pinning me, and his free hand a feather’s touch against my nape. I shiver, too violently, surrendering to the goosebumps I felt forming at his command. “You’ll always be beautiful. Dazzling, ethereal, captivating… hypnotizing.”

The nightmares are worth it. Waking in cold swear is worth it. The trembling fear that paralyzes me when I come to is worth it, if it means being ensnared in him. I know where it will lead, where it can lead, I hope for every possibility that lands me in his arms. They protect me. His voice guides me, his hands keep me steady. With him, I am grounded, I am real, I am present and moving. I’m not watching the world dance by. I’m not focusing on singled out colors of the world, but rather, seeing the picture comprised of those colors. The sights are so much prettier that way.

“Now you’re just being nice,” I chuckle, his hand releasing mine. Both of his, large and benign, rest within the delicate curves of my neck; thumbs lazily brushing my jawline over and over again. A simple motion further tethering me to this reality.

“I’m being _honest_, is that so bad?” Nate breathes. I want to throw myself forward, achingly slow. He said being around me took willpower, does he need to use so much of it when we’re alone?

“I feel like I’m not returning the favor.” Despite this answer being as honest as it gets. A second of silence, and I’m opening my eyes, feeling Nate shift slightly. I find him gazing at me so tenderly. I didn’t know anyone could make such expression. How was it possible? I can’t put it into words, because words wouldn’t do it justice. I just know I want to burn it to memory.

“You’re always honest, Surina. You’re honest when things are difficult to talk about, honest when you’re uncomfortable, annoyed, vexed.” Nate assured me, pressing his hands a bit harder to my skin. The heat from him only intensified.

“I-how?” I wrack my brain, think of any instance where I was this open like him. Did the snowball fight count? Pretty sure I was honest about pummeling him and Adam with balls of fury, Felix on my side. Mason’s only real involvement was either jeering or dodging strays.

“Body language.” He answered, as if it were obvious. I perch a brow, removing myself from my thoughts, waiting for him to elaborate. A thoughtful hum slips past his lips. “During certain conversations, when you’re bothered, you become more animated in your movements. When annoyed, your answers are either curt, or with explicatives. You slouch while you’re upset, avoid eye contact, turn your body from us.”

…Well, fuck, I couldn’t hide from him if I tried.

I swallowed thickly, staring at him, anticipating more. “Was…I slouching when I came out of my room.”

“Mmhm,” The corners of his lips raise. “Is it bad to say it’s interesting watching how you react?”

“How-how do you mean?”

Nate’s deep, endless brown eyes twinkle, like I spoke the magic words. “Do you really want to know the answer, Surina?” His voice pins me in place, throaty, low, too low, blissfully low. It’s heavenly. Honey on the ears. No, the finest silk.

“…Yes.” My own is weak, barely a whisper. I didn’t think much of it before, but it’s undeniable now. The growing heat, my clothes, loose and baggy, are too confining. They felt heavy on my skin. I almost look to my apartment door, waiting for Unit Bravo to bust it down. It’s happened a thousand times.

His head tilts, slowly, curiously, his eyes alight with newfound interest. “I can feel your heartbeat.” Nate allows his eyes to travel down my face and to my collarbone, then lower… and lower, until they find where that damned thumping organ rests. “It’s quick, lacking rhythm. Your skin is warm, warmer than usual. Is it because of me?”

_ Oh, fuck off, you know it is._ I hear myself say in my head. I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

“Of course, it is. It’s always been like that, since the day we met, where you looked me up and down. Were you cautious? Afraid? Did you think I’d bite you?” If anyone else asked me that, I’d throw them out the room. But from him…it’s dangerously enticing. Nate pursed his lips, staring at my chest. I am damn happy I went to bed with a bra on. “Your heart picked up,” He’s having too much fun. Before I can say anything, finding my voice, his arms are around my middle, pulling me into his lap with ease, so swift it blurred my vision. His head rests right on my breasts, ear pressed against my shirt. Those arms tight and secure, I know there’s no escaping. “I’m curious if you’ve felt teeth before,”

_ I’m fucked, I am so fucked. _

My chest felt tight, I can’t breathe—it’s delicious. He could take all the air from me, I wouldn’t care. Nate drags his head up along my front, until he’s found a home buried in the crook of my neck. What did those teeth feel like? If I asked to feel them, would he give me a taste? Just having them brush my skin would satisfy me. No…it wouldn’t, it’d leave me begging. I’m bizarrely thankful to feel those lips again, leaving lingering kisses, fire blooming in their wake beneath my skin. Fire hot enough to reach my bones.

_ I am _definitely_ fucked._

I don’t realize my hands snaking deep into his hair. It’s soft, silk, free of tangles somehow. Does vampire hair not tangle-is that a thing? Sign me up for that. I’d love being a vampire if I didn’t have to comb every morning.

Arching into him, a gasp is given in response to yet another kiss, the heat enveloping us will engulf us before long. I need it to consume me, I need to be ravaged by it. Nate must feel the same, because he groaned against my skin, sending vibrations to ripple through me. I won’t think twice about what I do next—hopefully the shirt he’s wearing wasn’t one of his ridiculously expensive ones.

* * *

When I wake this time, it’s to the blinding morning sun blasting through the open curtains of my bedroom, and I’m looking right at them. I throw an annoyed groan to the sight, tossing my body onto the other side where I find Nate beside me. A book rests against his chest, the text too small for me to clearly read, but he seemed engrossed in it. His hair disheveled, skin glowing in the light that managed to touch him, making his skin look like amber. I wished he laid where I had instead. I wanted to see the halo of light outlining his frame, see it catch in his eyes as they crinkle with a smile I know will be given. “Good morning, love,” He whispered, tearing his attention from the book and onto me. God is he beautiful. My face burns hotter at the pet name than the sun on my skin. “How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderfully, actually…No Murphy invasion.” I says as I exhale softly, not wasting another second to wiggle closer, a move Nate catches onto. He lifts his arm, giving me permission to tuck myself against his side, my head comfortable on his shoulder. His hand traces lazy and loose patterns on my bicep. It tickles. “What about y-oh. Right, you don’t sleep… uh.” _Recover, recover quickly. _“What are you reading?”

“Wuxia novel,” Nate said, glancing to me. My lack of knowledge must’ve been obvious, as he broke into a grin. “Chinese, well, it’s translated to English. I’m rusty in the language as I don’t get many chances to practice it.”

“You speak Chinese?” I gawked.

“Mandarin and Cantonese,” The lack of pride in that is astonishing. Then again, it’s normal for him, just another fact.

“Can you write it too?”

“Oh, definitely. I love writing in Chinese, it’s fun! Well, once you learn the stroke order.” A moment flew by where his eyes were alight. Despite that, they never looked brighter than when he looked at me, and in knowing that, my heart skips a beat. I have to look away, steal a moment to calm myself, and notice a blanket lay over us. The comforter, actually. The sheets were on the bed too. “After our… fun, you fell asleep shortly after, so I took the liberty of drying everything and putting them on the bed.” Nate states, seemingly noticing where my attention had fallen during the silence.

“…You worked the dryer.” I said, clearly skeptical as I eyed him.

“I _do _remember saying I’d manage any piece of technology for you.” Nate beamed. “I’ll admit, it’s significantly faster than a washboard.” Did I imagine him using one of those just now? Yes, yes I did. His six foot four hunched over a bucket as he scrubbed and scrubbed. An amusing thought.

“Um—” Another thought comes to mind. “How long after did I fall asleep?”

His eyes roll up to the ceiling, remembering. “About… forty minutes, I suppose. Why?” They flick back to me just as I began to turn my face into him, seeking to hide. Wow. I couldn’t even stay awake a whole hour, an hour to ask if he was okay, or happy, or satisfied. “Oh- are you…Don’t be embarrassed!” I hear the book close then feel both arms come around me, wiggling his body so it’s flush against mine. In this position, when he laughs, I feel it through his chest. “It’s okay, I promise you. We went at it for a while, and regardless, it takes considerable energy. I’d rather you went to sleep sooner than later, Surina.”

“Yeah, but…Forty minutes, Nate!” My voice is muffled slightly by his body. I make no effort to fix that.

“Forty minutes in my arms, gazing at me. You were already somewhat sleep deprived, I knew that, so it was cute when you started talking.”

“What did I say?” How the fuck can I not remember?

“Nothing scandalous. You told me you liked my stubble, a lot, and kissed it just as much. I’m pretty sure it got more love than the rest of me,” Nate chuckles fondly. “You said you liked my eyes, said I was…”

My head pops free when he trails off, catching his thoughtful expression with furrowed brows to boot. “Nate?”

His eyes snap to my face, the look clearing and melting away in an instant. “You said I was beautiful, too.”

When I sat on that those words, I saw the flicker of doubt. I assume not many people called him such thing, or maybe it had to do with what he was; a creature of the night. A creature of a thousand stories where they’re predators, monsters, ruthless killers. Nate is so far from that; I’d say the same if I knew every detail of his past. He could tell me he killed someone, and I wouldn’t change my mind. _Nothing could change my mind._

Slowly, I untangle myself from him, a flash of worry crossing his face. I silently assure him with a smile, flipping over to stretch toward the nightstand behind me. The drawer is wiggled open, wood scrapping wood, I free the spiral sketchbook from inside and sit up properly, adjusting the blanket to keep my lower regions hidden. Yes, he’s seen it before, but I still appreciate modesty. I flip the book open, breezing by past sketches, some as old as two years ago. I hadn’t gotten much time since joining the force, even less since becoming a human liaison for Wayhaven, so it made me appreciate all the moments I did get to myself. Nate sits up beside me. I steal a glimpse to notice is surprised curiosity, eyes roaming every page, unbothered by how fast they flick over, until I stop, finding what I was looking for. Asking for permission with a glance, I nod my head, and he takes the book from my lap.

A double page spread of him in my window seat. He was waiting for the others to arrive at the time, they were going to bring Rebecca along as well. Nate noticed my tension about it, and while he gave me a tender kiss to my forehead, he knew not to press. So, he gave me as much space as my apartment would allow, where he chose that seat. The sun was high, nearing noon. Its light cascaded his graceful body, every seam and crease highlighted, his face captured in perfect duality. I had drawn this piece as if the color radiated from him, crawling to the rest of the black and white world around him. Every shade of blue, of red or green, or yellow, couldn’t exist without him. Nate was the embodiment of what made this world beautiful, because he captured beauty in itself. He defined it. _Created _it.

It was a moment I couldn’t simply photograph, or remember. There aren’t enough words, of any language, to express what I had seen when I looked at him that day. While there were a million other moments akin to this…this was, is, the most vivid. This was the moment I wished I could tell him, so he knew how I felt on the nights I woke frightened, or we were fighting for our lives. If I just looked at him, and only him, everything would be okay. The world could feel balanced.

Wordlessly, I watch Nate’s fingers barely graze over the drawing, feeling the lines left behind, the differentiating weight between certain strokes. I can’t quite tell what his face reads, its too many things colliding at once. So, I keep watching as he turned the page to the drawing behind it. I think I did it a week ago; of Nate and I.

The concept was the same, he contained every color known to man. He held me against him, I suddenly feel embarrassed for drawing us naked despite nothing explicit being shown, unless side-boob counts. Where his hands lay pressed to my body, the color swirled, breathing life into me. Where our lips met, the color bloomed there too. Surrounded by stars, by a night sky I knew we’d always be looking up to no matter how far we were from one another. At the end of the day, we could, at least, stand under the same sky, that was enough for me. I was spoiled with that alone.

Nate swallows hard, drawing in his lips. His brows twitch, lowering, pressing towards one another, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Surina…I…” The whisper of his would have me on my knees if I wasn’t already sitting. My heart hammers away in my chest, so hard I fear it’ll break through the flesh. “Is…is this…how you envision me?”

“Of course,” I whisper back, leaning so my shoulder presses into his. “Because it’s what you are.”

“I’m…this being of color?” He looks to me, confused, baffled, and with watering eyes.

“_Yes._” I find purchase of his cheeks, holding them firmly in my hands, thumbs ready to swipe away any tears that may fall. “You’re beautiful too. Dazzling, captivating, ethereal, hypnotizing. What you are has nothing to do with it, it’s just who you are, Nate. You sell yourself short, and it pains me, honestly, to see you silently berate yourself. Whether you’re a vampire, or werewolf, a _fucking _unicorn—which I’m almost convinced you are one sometimes—you are worth everything. If I could, I wouldn’t just move heaven and Earth. I’d move every planet I had to, every system, I’d search for the edge of the universe just to prove it to you.”

As I spoke, the tears I prepared for had spilled over, and my thumbs were quick to catch them and dry his cheeks. Although they were happy tears, as he was smiling, little by little, the longer I talked. “I love you, Nate. Don’t think that’ll change any time soon.” Nate hesitated just a second until he whipped me tight into his arm, a hold I quickly reciprocate by holding his waist. His hand splayed along my lower back, the other cradling the back of head, so protectively.

“Thank you…thank you,” He whispers still, his voice shaking, much like his chest as he inhaled deeply.

“I’m just being honest,” I tease, something he manages a laugh at before we break apart; just to come together at the lips all over again. I swipe the sketchbook from his lap, knowing wherever it lands will be safe on the floor.

“I love you; I love you, Surina,” Nate murmured between peppered kisses to my lips as we collapse back onto the bed, his hands hold my cheeks while I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him on top of me. He says it again and again, so much I start saying it back, so much I start giggling like a lovestruck schoolgirl. It makes kissing hard for the both of us. At least we didn’t have clothes to worry about, we just have to work on not getting tangled in the blankets.

Until solid thumps sound at my apartment door, forcing us to slow and fall apart, waiting, but we already know the answer. “Nate, you better be in there, we called at least ten times!” Mason yelled at the door. Nate winced with guilt. “I know you know how to at least answer a fucking phone.”

“Is the Detective in there too? She hasn’t answered either—” Adam called out. Where the hell even is my phone? Somewhere, anywhere, hiding. It was my time to wince, Nate sitting back and flopping beside me with an exasperated sigh.

“…Should we break the lock...?” Mason replies thoughtfully.

“Don’t you dare!” I hiss, whipping upright.

“Oh! Hi, Detective, you’re alive! Is it safe to assume Natey is in there too?” Felix chimes in, that sing-song tone of his only makes me grind my teeth.

“Well…At least they knocked first.” Nate hums, an uneasy smile shifting into honest delight, biting back a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they give you time to get ready.” He crawls into my line of sight, kissing the very corner of my lips; it had me smiling in an instant. “Beautiful,” With a wink, he’s getting off of my bed, freed from the blankets while Unit Bravo bickered or debated—I’m not sure which—outside my apartment. Nate dressed quickly at least. I watch him leave, closing my bedroom door behind him. The voices of the others briefly sound clear only to be muffled again. Why is it almost every time we get time like this, they interrupt? Is this next level cock-blocking? They probably have a sixth sense about it…which is… bizarre. I won’t linger on that thought. I allow myself the quickest of showers to clean the most important areas, to rinse my hair, before I’m throwing on clothes. I can brush my teeth at the station, I keep a travel toothbrush and paste in my drawer just for moments like these. Ones where I know certain people will be impatient. But if it’s them that are impatient, if it’s Unit Bravo waiting for me, well, then I don’t mind one bit. They’re faces I look forward to, even Mason’s. Even Rebecca’s. Knowing they’re out there, alive and continuing on is comforting. I can withstand the nightmares and blood loss, the trauma and bated breaths, pumping adrenaline and awkward conversations so long as they’re around. So long as Nate is around. Because without them, the dreams would greedily eat at me, and the world would continue to be so hollow and grey. It wouldn’t be very beautiful.

Then again… nothing could be as beautiful is the man I love, I know that.

Sometime, we should look through the photo album again. Maybe all of us could look through those immortal memories, so they, too, have something to hold precious or find beautiful.


End file.
